


To Be Asked

by Angelic_Ascent



Category: Persona 5
Genre: During Canon, M/M, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Ascent/pseuds/Angelic_Ascent
Summary: Akechi’s not sure what he’s expecting Akira to say, or do, and he certainly doesn’t have the mental clarity to even consider the possibilities, but if he could, he most definitely wouldn’t be expecting Akira to press his lips right up to the wound and start sucking.





	To Be Asked

As the world dissolves around them, the already chilled air of November is replaced by a cold gust of wind. It blows up from the subway stairs, and despite their experience with it, most of the Phantom Thieves shiver and shudder.

Goro Akechi does not.

The dark entrance of Mementos stares up at them. Its blackness and emptiness calls, familiar. 

As everyone begins their descent, Akechi looks to his left, and he meets the piercing gaze of the only other who walks down the stairs with complete calm.

Akechi looks away from Akira and heads down.

They are the last two to step off the stairs onto the landing platform. 

“So,” Makoto says, looking at her phone, “we only have a couple things to take care of today.”

“All our targets should all be on just about the lowest levels we can get to right now,” Futaba says, both hands on her visor. “Huhuhu, Morgana road trip!”

Morgana walks over to the large railway tracks. “Please, just… don’t drive too fast…”

Ryuji makes some kind of comment and Morgana gives a playful response, leaving Haru in giggles and Ann says something and then Morgana talks again… and they probably keep going, but Akechi pays no real attention. 

Instead, his gaze remains on the darkness ahead of them. Of course, it’s really just dim -- this area of Mementos was fairly tame, after all. Akechi would know. Mementos was, of course, where the majority of his targets had been. Not that he hadn’t traveled through his fair share of Palaces.

But Mementos is familiar to him now. Its darkness, its emptiness. How everyday it was seemingly different; different turns, twists, directions, constantly shifting, switching its mask, as if changing to please one who would never be satisfied. 

But it was always the same on the inside: monstrous and distorted. Empty except for darkness and despair. Unloved and unwanted.

“Pretty impressive, huh, new guy?”

Futaba’s voice brings him back to reality.

“Hm? Ah --”

Akechi isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for the cat to now be a car.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Makoto says. “I know this place must seem intimidating, but with all of us together, it’ll be fine.”

Akechi’s fingers curl tightly into his palms.

“Of course,” he says, a smile put upon his face, a twinkle turned on in his eyes. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“Come on,” Morgana says, the vehicle’s tag wagging. “Best thing to beat nerves is to just get to it.”

“I’ll drive,” Makoto says, already opening the driver’s side door. “I think we’ll want a steady hand for a long trip.”

“Do you have a preference for where you sit, Crow?” Haru asks.

Akechi shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Noobs in the back, then,” says Futaba, clamoring into one of the middle row seats.

There’s more chit-chat and some scrambling as the Thieves pile into the car, until eventually only Akechi and Akira are left.

Akechi catches the other’s gaze, steadily watching him. He isn’t sure how long it’s been there.

“C’mon,” Akira says casually. 

Akechi follows him.

It ends up being Makoto driving with Haru next to her, with Yusuke, Futaba, and Ann in the middle row, and Ryuji, Akira, and Akechi in the wayback. It’s just a bit of a tight fit.

Driving was certainly faster than Akechi's usual of being on foot; not only that, but the light of the interior and the head… eyes? illuminated their path rather than have it being cloaked in darkness. The most striking difference, however, was that in between the… meows… of the engine, and more prominently, the nonstop chatter, the Shadows were impossible to hear. Their calls. Their whispers. Their screams of darkness.

That was a disadvantage, of course. How foolish it was, truly --

“Can you move your ass over at all?” Ryuji says after they’ve been driving for ten minutes.

“I could, but you also don’t have to have your legs spread like that,” Akira says.

Ryuji smirks and chucks his hip at Akira, sending him colliding into Akechi’s side.

“Oh, sorry man,” Ryuji says with a chuckle.

A short laugh leaves Akechi, his smile the same as the one that TV cameras loved so much. It fades when Ryuji turns his attention away. 

For the rest of the ride, Akira doesn’t shift off of Akechi’s side.

* * *

“Out,” Morgana says as they get off at the countless platform.

“We must be close by now, right?” Ann asks.

Of course they are. This was the farthest Akechi had ever been into Mementos, so --

“One more area,” Futaba says.

Most of the party groans. Akechi is quiet.

How? Akechi had been coming here for years, and this was the furthest he had ever been able to come, only starting last month, so why, why --

He catches Akira’s gaze on him again and this time, Akechi walks closer to the rest of the group instead.

The next area of Mementos is dark, even comparatively to the rest. 

“Okay, so our first target should be nearby, actually,” Futaba says. “Buuuut, it’ll still take a few minutes even in the car, so let’s hop in!”

Morgana sighs.

The drive is longer than anticipated. Or maybe it’s not. Akechi loses track of the time a bit. His eyes are fixated out the window, taking in this foreign area of Mementos. The red staining the walls. The bone-like structures protruding from them. The more he looks, the deeper they go, the uglier it becomes.

“Aaaand here we are,” Futaba says eventually, and the vehicle comes to a stop. A distortion awaits them at the end of the corridor.

“Full speed ahead!” Morgana says, and Makoto revs and then floors it.

“Wait! Waitwaitwait!” 

Makoto brings them to a screeching halt at Futaba’s voice, sending everyone flying forward a bit.

“Oi, what the hell?!” Ryuji says.

“What’s wrong, Oracle?” Haru asks, looking back at her.

“I’m just… getting a weird… feeling…” she says slowly, bringing a hand up to her visor. “Can everyone get out? I want to use my Persona.”

A few of them look at each other with obvious tension. Akechi meets none of their gazes. What are they getting worried about? Did they really have to have this much prep to take out a single target? Pathetic.

Nonetheless, everyone does as as asked, exiting the vehicle, and Morgana transforms back into his small form after they’re out.

Necronomicon takes shape above them and Futaba rises inside.

“What’s going on?” Ann asks after a few moments, everyone’s gazes fixed upwards.

“I’m not sure… I just sense something… changing.”

“Is there something coming after us?” Ryuji asks, looking around them.

“No… No, it’s not like that, it’s…”

Then comes a loud noise, something akin to the groan of a colossal sized door opening.

Futaba gasps. “Everyone move! Run for the distortion!” 

The command isn’t even fully out of her mouth before the sound is heard again, this time accompanied by several of the bone-like structures on the wall starting to collapse to the ground.

The group sprints, several of them yelling as the ground rises in places. The very walls shift around them, the train tracks break and form again.

“What’s happening?!” Ryuji screams over the cacophony of it all.

“Mementos is changing!” Futaba yells. “Just run! We can’t get separated!”

Akechi runs at the head of the group with Akira -- lucky, really, they were the closest when this started. 

Or unlucky, Akechi thinks as the floor rises sharply behind him and he hears someone else crash into it.

The distortion is close now, not even three meters away --

“Wait!” Futaba says. “Joker, Crow, wait! At this rate --”

Akechi looks behind himself -- the corridor has shifted and fallen apart enough so that only a couple of small spaces connect him and Akira to the rest of the team.

He only sees this, of course, as he comes close enough to the distortion that it starts to pull him in. His feet leave the ground, and the walls around the distortion start to twist and contract as well.

“Akechi!” Akira yells, leaping up and outstretching his hand.

Several of the other Thieves yell -- “Joker, stop!” “Wait!” “Don’t!”

Akechi meets Akira’s gaze, coming close as he continues to run over.

Akechi has done this so many times before. He never has -- and doesn’t -- need anyone. His mind reels, thinking of all the Thieves in the bus, laughing, chatting, having fun with this. He didn’t want to be around them. He didn’t --

His arm reaches out and his fingers brush Akira’s, and Akira jumps and takes a firm hold of his hand.

Akira is pulled up with the distortion and with Akechi, and they disappear into it.

Gravity takes effect faster than it had left and they fall and tumble to the ground with a thud. It’s not as hard as Akechi anticipates, though.

A groan comes from under him as he realizes why.

Scrambling, Akechi pushes himself up off of Akira until he’s upright, legs still straddling the other. 

Akira sits up, pushing himself on his hands. “Are you okay?” He asks, rubbing one of his shoulders.

“I -- of course I’m okay,” Akechi says. There are a million things he wants to say -- you idiot, why did you do that, it was unneeded -- all these thoughts waiting to be said are definitely why he’s also not just getting off of Akira’s damn lap --

“Good,” Akira says.

“Are… you okay?”

Akechi’s not sure why he asked it.

“I’m fine right now. We’ll see how I feel tomorrow,” he says with a small smirk.

“…ker… Joker…”

Futaba’s voice echoes faintly and Akechi quickly stands, holding out his hand to Akira.

There’s a moment, so brief Akechi only notices because he was watching Akira so intently -- well, just looking at him, really, of course -- where Akira just stares at Akechi’s hand before he takes it. Why? Isn’t this what teammates -- “teammates” -- did for each other? Was it weird? 

Futaba’s voice calls out as Akechi pulls Akira up, and Akechi quickly brings his hand back to his side.

“Joker, can you hear me?” She says, her voice more distinct.

“Oracle?” Akira responds, looking around. “Where are you?”

“Outside the distortion. Are you both safe?”

“Yeah. What about you guys?”

“We’re fine.”

Akechi looks behind them -- to meet solid wall, the distortion gone. 

“There’s no exit,” Akira says.

“Nothing here either,” Futaba replies. “We’re going to move. I’m sure there’s a new entrance to where you are… but we’ll be farther away for a while, so I don’t think we’ll be able to communicate.”

“Okay. We’ll look around for an exit, too.”

“You know, it would be safer if you just stayed put and waited for us.”

Akira glances at Akechi. “The two of us will be fine.”

Akechi blinks.

Though it goes against his expectations, there’s something about Akira being able -- and willing -- to face the Mementos alone, no matter how dark, how ugly, how twisted, how awful -- something about it that makes Akechi’s chest tighten.

“Besides,” Akira continues to Futaba, “it will be faster if we look too, and waiting here causes risk of Mementos shifting again.”

“Okay…” Futaba says, reluctance obvious in her voice. “Just be careful, alright?”

“You guys, too.”

There’s a short static-like noise before all becomes quiet.

Akira and Akechi only nod at each other once before starting to walk down the dark pathway.

The darkness in front of him; the encasing silence, save for the whispers and winds of the Shadows; the soft echo of his footsteps.

 _This_ is familiar to Akechi.

He closes his eyes. The beating of his heart in his chest.

His feet have stopped, but footsteps next to his continue, and Akechi keeps going without dwelling.

Having Akira next to him, is, of course, unfamiliar. He also walks in silence -- more silence, even, given how his footsteps are quieter than Akechi’s. Akechi wonders if Akira can hear his own heart, too.

They come upon a turn and they both slink closer to the wall, Akira one step ahead of Akechi.

“It’s the target,” he says quietly as he peeks around the corner. He draws back, pressed against the wall next to Akechi. “Ready?”

Akechi nods.

They leave their spot in a movement fluid as water, approaching the Shadow of a man.

“Ah, so what, you’re here to change my heart?” He says. “Come and try, then!”

Akechi summons his Persona before the man has even fully transformed. Robin Hood evokes a beam of light under the Shadow and it’s already off its feet.

“Nice,” Akira says, running in close with his knife. He delivers a blow before the Shadow gets back up.

As Akira jumps back, Akechi moves in, swinging his sword in perfect form and time. It’s a strong attack, but it doesn’t send the Shadow off its feet. No matter -- Akechi hadn’t expected it to. He jumps back into a defensive stance, ready to strike when the time is right --

 _“Persona!”_ Akira cries behind him, a ray of darkness rising from below the Shadow. It falls to its feet again.

This time, after it falls, the monstrous form dissolves and the man is left laying there.

It’s an image Akechi has seen dozens of times before. All the people look the same to him by now; after all, they were all the same on the inside, anyway. Here in Mementos, or in Palaces, all of everyone’s distorted desires were on display. It was easy to do what Akechi did. It was what plenty of them -- maybe even most of them -- wanted, anyway. It was a way out. Freedom, even. Release. 

Akechi almost sighs as Akira walks by him and toward their target. Of course, the noblest of Phantom Thieves wouldn’t understand.

“Get up,” Akira says, tucking his hands into his pockets as he looks down at the man.

“I don’t know what… I have to live for anymore,” the man says, knees shaking as he stands. “No one wanted me around, so… I didn’t want anyone around either.”

“Don’t put words into other people’s mouths,” Akira says. 

“But I hurt everyone,” the man continues, “what do I even do…?”

“I can’t answer that for you. But the people who care about you can help if you open up to them.”

“It… would just hurt them more if I kept rejecting them… wouldn’t it?”

Akira only nods.

The man gives a last look at Akira and says, “I hope… I can find someone who will want to be as close to me as you two are to each other.”

Then he’s a shimmering light and he’s gone.

Akechi’s eyes fixate on where the man vanished.

…And what? That was it? Everything was fixed, everything was perfect?

Akira adjusts his gloves and they shine in the dim light, pristine. A shade of red bright and vivid and clean.

“…Akechi?”

It's only when Akira says his name that Akechi realizes he's staring at him, fists clenched and breaths shallow.

“Are you okay?” Akira asks.

“Of course,” Akechi says quickly. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Akira eyes him, his gaze piercing.

Akechi’s chest tightens.

“That’s true,” Akira says eventually. 

After a moment, he turns, facing down the dark pathway. “Let’s go see if we can find a way out.”

Akechi follows him.

Their footsteps echo slightly about as they go. It’s impossible to see more than a couple of meters in front of them -- the darkness absorbs all that it touches. 

“Not that you seem to be having trouble handling it, but sorry this is your first experience with Mementos,” Akira says after a minute or so. 

“I take it this is the first time any of you have been separated,” Akechi says.

Akira’s eyes shift to him -- for just a moment, and then they’re back on the way ahead. “Yeah, but you and I make a good team. I meant more the general atmosphere of this section.”

Akechi’s glances around them. True -- this path did seem rather sinister, he supposed. The bone-like protrusions, the grave structures, and red splashes on the walls were nothing new to him, but the abundance of them, the vividness of the “blood,” the darkness… was something else.

Not that Akechi minded. It suited Mementos. A place given life by the mind of the fickle public, ugly and filled with horrendous desires. 

“I’ll admit, it’s not quite what I was expecting when you all described this place,” Akechi says, pushing a lock of hair back in place, “but then again, I’m not sure what I was expecting, really.” He ends with a small laugh.

For a moment, Akira is quiet. And then he says, “Well, I’m sure you saw, but the whole place isn’t like this. For a while, even as we went deeper, it still didn’t seem that weird.”

“And you’ve been able to proceed further as the Phantom Thieves became more famous… or infamous.”

“Right. Ultimately, we want to get to the bottom depths… and solve the mystery of this place.”

“Mystery?” Akechi says. His pace is nearly at Akira’s side, now, and their eyes meet a moment before Akechi’s attention turns back in front of them. “Didn’t you all say this was a manifestation of the public’s cognition? 

“Yeah, but there has to be something at the bottom of all this, right?” Akira’s gaze shifts up, toward the endless darkness. “I mean, the place has changed the further we’ve come. Besides, Morgana is certain there may be some clue to his identity, too.”

Akechi nearly lets out a small laugh. “Not to be rude, but… isn’t he just a cat?”

Akira looks at him. “It’s just us. You can drop the fake polite.”

Akechi meets Akira’s eyes and opens his mouth, the reply there -- definitely there -- but there’s something in Akira’s gaze, something more piercing than their sharp, bright color -- 

Akechi looks away, lips pursed.

“Anyway, I think he is, but I also think there’s more to it,” Akira says.

Silence fills the space between them. Not total silence -- there’s the ever-present wind carrying the cries of Shadows, and though it seems louder now, the silence between them is overpowers it.

“I want to get to the depths,” Akira says eventually, “but a big part of me wishes things weren’t how they are to get us there.”

Akechi takes a moment to respond. “Well… the Thieves’ name will be cleared after we deal with Niijima-san. The agreement was that the Thieves disband after this, but…”

He isn’t sure why he trails off.

Either way, Akira just shakes his head. “I don’t mean that. I mean being famous in the first place.”

Akechi’s step nearly falters.

“So you mean… you wish the Thieves hadn’t become famous to begin with?”

Akira takes a deep breath. “I mean… it’s kind of why we’re in this mess in the first place. But more than that…”

He looks down and Akechi watches him intently; even through Akira’s mask, his expression is clear, and it’s not one Akechi has seen before. His face is tense -- his eyes are cast in a darker shade -- his eyelashes hood them as they half-shut.

“Never mind.”

Akechi stops walking.

“You can’t just leave it like that,” he says, a bit quickly. Akira looks at him and Akechi adds a little laugh. “I mean, now I’m curious.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s something you would understand, Detective Prince.”

Akira’s words carry a flippant tone, but more than that is the edge of something harder, something heavier than the atmosphere around them.

The way he looks at Akechi adds to this.

Like he’s deathly serious.

Akechi meets his gaze dead on.

Whatever Akira was fishing for, he wasn’t going to get it.

Because no one could make Akechi do anything. People didn’t use him, didn’t manipulate him. After all, Akechi was the one with the public’s eye on him -- Detective Prince, soon-to-be-lauded hero that took down the evil Phantom Thieves. 

And, of course, the one who would soon ruin Masayoshi Shidou’s life.

…But of course, Akira must be smarter than that, to think that he could simply get Akechi to say whatever he was looking to hear.

More than that, it’s the way Akira looks at him. A gaze of dead certainty, like he suspects, or he _knows,_ one that made Akechi want to get it over with here and now, because he doesn’t know _anything_ \--

And then there's the sparkle to Akira’s eyes like he’s curious, wondering, searching. For something honest. A look Akechi recalls in the mirror, but so many years ago.

So maybe he’s not outright lying, but he’s not being wholly honest either. Which suits him, of course.

And maybe Akechi too.

Like there was some lie to what he was saying right now, maybe there was some truth to what Akechi --

His hands curl into fists so tightly his fingers go numb.

“Maybe so,” Akechi says simply. He adds a lightness to his words as he continues, “After all, I’m not sure that we -- a detective and a thief -- could emphasize, exactly.”

“You really think so?”

Akira’s tone doesn’t change at all.

Akechi stares at him.

Akira’s footstep as he comes a pace closer is loud, but Akechi’s heart against his chest is louder.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Akira says.

Akechi watches him -- he watches Akira come closer to him, each step intended. The wailing of the Shadows becomes quiet. The dark wind stops. Akechi doesn’t know what Akira is going to say, but his heart is pounding, threatening to jump out of his chest. Why? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Lie. Just lie. Whatever he says, just lie. He’s always done that to Akira. When Akechi told him he had only recently been to the cognitive world, when he said he wanted to find the true culprit, it was a lie, it was all a lie, every smile, every hello, when he talked about his past for the first time to anyone, ever, it was just to set Akira up later, just like when he reached out and pulled him into this distortion with him, that was to trap him too, and the movement of the Shadow behind Akira is silent, so all Akechi has to do was lie about that, too --

“Behind you!” Akechi says, but before the words are even out of his mouth he’s grabbed Akira by the wrist and yanked him forward. He pulls Akira behind himself, and their eyes meet for a fleeting second -- just enough so that Akechi can see, for the first time in memory, Akira’s eyes widen in surprise. And maybe -- maybe -- fear.

Akechi only sees it for a moment because in the next the Shadow’s claw has swiped down and sliced him -- a searing pain on his shoulder makes the rest of his body feel numb, and he falls to his knees, vision blurring. He clutches his shoulder, pressing on the wound -- his gloves immediately dampen with the blood, but the wound isn’t deep. No, he’s dealt with worse, this should be fine --

If it’s not so deep, he wonders, vaguely, why his vision won’t clear, why he feels so lightheaded --

Somewhere distantly he hears Akira’s voice, and somewhere even further he hears a Persona, the cry of a Shadow, and the melting of its body. After what may have been seconds or may have been hours, Akechi feels warm hands on his upper arms.

“Are you okay?” 

That’s what Akechi _thinks_ Akira asked, anyway, and he manages to nod.

Akira gently pushes him and Akechi couldn’t offer resistance even if he wanted to; he leans against the wall behind him, sucking in a deep breath that sharpens his senses just a bit.

“It doesn’t look bad,” Akira says, pushing aside the torn fabric. “But…”

Akechi’s not sure what he’s expecting Akira to say, or do, and he certainly doesn’t have the mental clarity to even consider the possibilities, but if he could, he most definitely wouldn’t be expecting Akira to press his lips right up to the wound and start sucking.

Akechi, despite his relative numbness, still manages to almost jump at the sensation. With the hotness that comes with a fresh injury, Akira’s lips feel almost cool. Akira brings a hand to Akechi’s chest, lightly laying it there as he scoots a bit closer, and Akechi worries if he can feel how hard his heart is pounding.

“What… are you doing?” Akechi manages.

Akira stops sucking and wipes his mouth against his sleeve, some sort of dark fluid -- darker than blood -- staining it, barely visible on the black. “There’s still a bit more,” he says, bringing his mouth back to the wound with no hesitation.

This time Akechi braces himself, if just a bit, trying desperately to focus on something, anything, besides Akira sucking at his shoulder. Though it’s less his shoulder, really, and more the juncture at his neck, next to his collarbone.

Akechi’s become mostly blind to the pain at this point, and his surroundings have ceased to swirl around him. His other senses return to order with each passing second, bringing his attention to the warmth of Akira against him, yet the gentle hold of his hands on his chest and shoulder. The firm press of his lips against Akechi’s bare skin -- 

Akechi _does_ jolt, this time, as Akira sucks, a shiver running down his spine.

“Are you okay?” Akira’s lips move against him with every word he murmurs.

“I’m fine --” Akechi says, despite his breath shuddering, “so… what are you doing…”

“There was something on that Shadow’s claws.” Akira sucks again, this time with his tongue lapping at it; it sends a brief shock of pain and -- something -- through Akechi’s body. “And it’s in your wound.”

Akechi’s head starts to spin again, heat flushing his face. Thoughts don’t come coherently Akira’s Persona, why isn’t he using one, his lips are so soft --

“Persona,” he eventually manages. “You must… have one for things like this…”

Akira pulls back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve again. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I didn’t want to take the time and risk it.” He brings his lips back to Akechi’s skin before he continues, and again, his lips slide right along the other as he speaks. “There’s only a little more.”

Akechi takes another shaky breath, air like fire against his throat. “This… is stupid.”

“Maybe,” Akira murmurs. “But you’re being stupider. Don’t strain yourself and relax.”

He gently brings a finger to Akechi’s lips before he starts to suck again.

Akechi’s whole body tenses.

But even after Akira -- too slowly -- pulls his finger from the other’s mouth, Akechi doesn’t say a word. Tension leaves him as Akira continues to suck, and Akechi’s breathing evens out. His surroundings still spin and his head pounds -- 

Relax.

Somehow -- slowly, tentatively -- his eyes flutter shut.

Everything is more stable, then -- the swirling nausea in his stomach lessens, his head regains some weight to it. But, of course, what he now lacks in sight, his other senses make up for. He can feel every part of Akira’s lips, which feel warm against his skin now, every small touch of his tongue. 

He bites his own tongue and pushes his mind elsewhere -- this was so stupid, stupid, if Akira has been in here so much and knows oh so much then they shouldn’t be resorting to -- whatever this is -- it’s all Akira’s fault anyway that Akechi is in this position, if he hadn’t had to protect him --

Akira sucks, hard, and one of Akechi’s hands jerks up and takes hold of the Akira’s coat.

“Almost done,” Akira murmurs against his skin.

Akechi lets out a shuddered breath.

Of course, though. He had protected Akira. What would have happened if Akechi wasn’t there? Just more proof that Akechi was better than him. Akira had _needed_ him.

But then why was Akira the one who had been further into Mementos? Why was Akira the one with more Personas, with -- _people_ \-- with him --

He couldn’t think right now.

Akechi pulls Akira closer.

“Harder,” he says, voice a bit strained. “Get it… all out.”

On the contrary, Akira pauses. Akechi’s eyes are still closed, but he can feel Akira’s eyelashes flutter against him, and he can feel his piercing, searching eyes.

And then he feels Akira’s mouth move just a bit to the side, before sucking at his skin with an audible moan.

Akechi shivers down to his toes. It blocks out his thoughts, his mind. The only feelings are Akira’s hands against him and Akira’s lips on shoulder.

After only a few moments, though, Akira stops, and Akechi bites his tongue so hard he nearly draws blood.

“I need to move this,” Akira says quietly, sliding his hand up Akechi’s chest to the collar of his top. 

Akechi’s breathing stops.

“…Right,” he manages after a moment.

Not a second later Akira unfastens Akechi’s collar and pushes the fabric down his shoulder. The cool air meets his skin.

And then Akira pulls back, looking the other in the eye. “Akechi,” he says quietly.

Akechi meets his gaze.

Akira brings his hands to his own face, removing his mask and setting it down to the side, his eyes not leaving Akechi’s.

In between a shallow breath, Akechi looks from the mask and then back to Akira.

Akira doesn’t ask, and Akechi doesn’t say yes or even nod. Akira simply -- steadily -- reaches to Akechi’s mask and takes it off.

Akechi only meets his gaze for another moment before looking away.

There was no need for this -- Akechi’s heart pounds, surely with anger at how -- stupid this was -- what sort of pretense was this, just say it, what was the actual, singular reason Akira was doing this, and why couldn’t Akechi name a singular, solid reason as to why -- 

Akira’s mouth feels especially warm, now, against how cool his exposed skin had become. Though now it only envelops the edge of the wound, the majority of his lips on Akechi’s neck. He sucks and Akechi shudders, Akira’s tousled hair tickling his skin with each movement. 

Pushing his tongue down, Akira’s lips slowly moves up Akechi’s neck, sliding and sucking in repeated motions. Once or twice his teeth graze, and when the first time makes Akechi tense, Akira puts a hand atop his and squeezes.

By the time Akira is nearly at his jawline, Akechi’s breaths are shallower than ever.

“Relax,” Akira whispers, the coolness of his breath accentuated against how wet Akechi’s neck is. “Akechi,” he says, and this time Akechi has to bite back whatever godforsaken sound was going to come out of him. 

Akira presses his lips back against him, near his ear, a soft _chu_ sound coming from them. “Listen,” Akira murmurs. “I --”

The wind carries a howl, a thunderous cry of a Shadow’s agony, and the two jump apart. Akira is on his feet in less than a second, dagger pulled and at the ready. Akechi is only a moment behind, having grabbed his mask before standing with his back against Akira’s, their shoulders brushing. 

“It came from this direction,” Akechi says, looking toward where they had been headed.

Akira nods, moving to Akechi’s side. “It could be the others.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Akechi takes a step forward, bringing his mask to his face.

“Wait.”

And then turns back around, mask centimeters away in his hand.

Once again, he is met with Akira’s steady gaze. Uninhibited by the mask, his eyes more vivid; there’s a shine to them that’s stark against their dark surroundings, but also a pulling depth.

“Earlier… when I said you didn’t have to be fake polite,” Akira says, “all I meant was that… I don’t like it when you act. I like… you.”

Akechi stares at him.

And then, he places his mask on his face, and gives a small smile. “I see,” he says. “That’s nice of you to say.”

Akira couches, picking his mask up off the ground. He stands and walks in front of Akechi.

“I know there’s more to it than that… I know things aren't that black and white. But I just wanted you to know.” He puts his mask back on, and he walks, and Akechi’s fingers curl into such tight fists they go numb.

But he follows Akira. He follows him, doing up his collar again, taking note of the red bruises it covers. It sticks to him a bit uncomfortably, clinging to the still-wet skin.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Akira says.

“For?”

“You were injured because of me. I… wasn’t focused around me, and --”

“…ey… Jo… Hey, Joker…”

The voice is distant, but it comes into distinction quickly.

“Oracle?” Akira says as he puts his mask back on. 

“Joker! Finally!” Futaba gives a sigh of relief. “We’re in the distortion! Are you both safe?”

“We’re fine. And we took care of the target.”

“Oh, well aren’t you two such a good team?” Futaba teases. “Anyway, I think we’re just around the corner now.”

“Great. Everything good on your end?”

“Well… I think Mona’s body might not be agreeing with the speeds we’ve been going at, but I’m sure he understands.”

She laughs a little and then there’s a short static before the silence.

Akira looks back at Akechi.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He eyes him steadily, not even glancing at Akechi’s shoulder.

A low rumble begins to echo, signalling the arrival of Akira’s comrades.

Akechi brushes a lock of hair in place behind his mask.

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be done by 5/6 i’m sorry goro... well this. is. i’m not sure what to say except i don’t know what it is anymore but either way thank you for reading and for all the support my shuake fics have gotten! It means the world! pls talk to me abt shuake on twitter (@kuremikazuchi) or tumblr (@kiryuujoshua).


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